The Hunger Games: About A Boy
by That'sLadySeaMonsterToYou
Summary: Normal Hunger Games story, as told by Peeta.  Has a sister story, Hunger Games: About a girl which is Katniss.  Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Hello there everyone, and welcome to the 74th annual…just kidding!_

_Well, welcome to the first chapter of my…weird schizo story. Because I'm what they like to call "Creative" (which is just a nice way to say "She's out of her mind!"), I'm going about this story in an interesting way. I'll be writing two stories at the same time, going through the exact same things, with one major difference._

_The one you're reading right now is called 'The Hunger Games: About A Boy' and will be told from Peeta's point of view. _

_The other one, that I urge you to read at the same time, is called 'The Hunger Games: About A Girl' and will be told to you by Katniss. _

_Although inspiration came from the lovely Miss Suzanne Collins, I'm changing some events and dialogue every now and then. _

_Now, proceed, my little reader, and may the odds be EVER in your favor!_

_-Lady SM_

I wake up a little confused. I'm not in my room I shared with my brothers and not in the bunk on the train, but swathed in the smoothest fabric he'd ever come in contact with. I was so comfortable I actually thought I was still asleep, maybe fortunate enough to be visited by some sort of pleasant dream before the madness really started. Then reality began to set back in as I breathed in deeply the slightly sterile air of the room in the Capitol with a big yawn and stretch, getting all of the muscles in my back warmed up for the day.

Looking around, I rubb my head thoughtfully and retrace last night's occurrences.

I had fallen asleep on the train. I remember battling the movement of the car on the tracks. It was slightly unsettling, but eventually I had drifted off anyway. It had pulled in at the middle of the night and Haymitch had roughly shaken me awake. I was so tired I just followed where they led me, not noticing any of our surroundings. Effie began to point out many different statues and buildings surrounding where the tributes would stay. She had sounded like an overenthusiastic tour guide, so I tuned her out.

Then we had all gone up in a crystal elevator to what Effie had called "The District 12 Suite", I had followed Effie into what she called "My Room", had changed into some pajamas laid out on the bed and crawled under the covers not expecting to sleep a wink.

I remember having nightmares as a child, usually resulting from a late-night beating from my mother before bed. Then I would drag myself over to the uncomfortable bed in the corner of the shared room and curl up in the slightly scratchy sheets. I had dreamt there were monsters, shadowy beings flying around the small room I shared with my brothers, accompanied by his mother's laughter. I would close my eyes tightly and curl up as small as I could, hoping the monsters would go away.

I had drifted off to sleep last night anticipating a night such as those.

But as soon as I settled down into the comfort of the sheets and felt myself sink into the deep cushions, I had drifted off happily, almost forgetting where I was.

Resettling myself among the sheets, I tried to hold onto the few moments I would have of comfort before the games would begin in the next few days.

Then suddenly, I wondered how Katniss had slept. Probably a very tough night, I thought. She's had such a hard life comes to me shortly after. It was certainly true. And although my own life had not been such a walk in the park, I wished he could take some of her hardships away. A picture flashed in my mind of her sleeping in my bed, my arms wrapped around her protectively, keeping her safe from the monsters of my own dreams. I realized that if I could, I would take on some of her burden.

Every time I'd get a glimpse of her pretty face at school, it'd been twisted by a sad expression or, a scowl at someone else (more often the latter), a strange pang within my chest would bubble up. I didn't really know what it was this girl was doing to make me respond so emotionally when all I did was look at her. I knew I was in love with her, but it was something else that maybe went hand in hand: I wanted to help her.

I also usually disregarded the deeper feelings because I knew it was impossible. But in my mind, I would always go up to her after our eyes met for the few seconds before she would look away, and I could…I don't know. I never actually got that far. I would usually stomp out my little fantasy of being brave and outgoing, so the record still stood: we had never spoke to each other. But here, being fellow tributes, we were bound to talk to each other eventually.

I smile and reluctantly roll out of bed, separating from the warmth of the covers. Pulling my shirt of over my head, I make my way towards the bathroom to clean my face. As I turned off the flow of cool water in the sink, I could hear Effie's voice saying "Rise and Shiiiine!", in a manner a bit too chipper for the early hour, accompanying the squeak of my door being opened.

"I'm up, Effie, thanks." I said, rubbing my face down with a wet cloth wearily.

"Oh, good. You've got a BIG day today, you know?" She said with a smile, clasping her hands trying to contain her excitement.

"Yes, well, I feel like we'll be having a lot of those, won't we?" I asked.

She mistook my slight sarcasm for excitement, and flashed me another big smile before adding, "Breakfast in a half an hour. Then you meet your stylists."

Then she breezed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Finishing my face, I placed my hands on the counter and leaned into the mirror and looked at myself intently. I knew it would amount to very little, but I wanted to look good for the stylists. And for Katniss, of course.

I raised a hand to try to flatten my unruly hair. Giving up at the blonde mess, I make a face in the mirror and returned to my room. Going through all of the drawers, I put together a fairly nice outfit of dark pants and a shirt. Simple, but I know anything would've been an improvement over what I had worn to the reaping. Not that it wasn't fancy, but everything in the room was so sophisticated that, in comparison, I would be able to wear my dress clothes to a work day down in the oven of the bakery.

I pick out a nice pair of shoes from the closet and tie the laces to the best of my ability. I go back to take one last look in the mirror, willing my hair to stop goofing off, pressing down hard. Rolling my eyes at my utter failure, I leave my room and walk down the hall, the shoes slightly pressing my toes together. But nothing I can't manage.

Walking down the hall, I realize I don't know what I'll say to her. I'll start with "Good morning." Yeah, that would be a good place to start. Or would it. Was it really a good morning? We had both just been ripped from our families to provide some rich snobs some entertainment. But being able to share it with her made it good in a small way, a light in the darkness.

I shook my head, kind of embarrassed with my lame thoughts. Getting to the end of the hall I deciding to just wing it, realizing It's usually better when I do. I look up slightly relieved and stop myself just in time to avoid almost running her over.

Her eyes are on the ground, on my shoes. I hand goes up to rub the back of my head as I wait for the right words to reach my tongue so I can end the awkward silence.

She looks up and I see bags under her eyes. Just as I thought, a rough night. The picture of my holding her comes up uninvited in my mind, and I blush slightly.

A grin flashes across her delicate face, her face lighting up as she suppresses a laugh.

The sight of her whole face lighting up from her smile makes me smile myself. She's so beautiful. I wonder if she knows it.

Then I realize she's laughing at me. Is it my shoes? Did I not put on the Capitol clothing correctly? I move my hand back down to my side. As her eyes focus in the space above my head, I realize what the source of her merriment it: It's my hair.

I blush again.

She says something, but the words don't register immediately. Her voice is so pure and soft, but so strong. Then I see her raise her hands to my head, and feel her fingers in my hair, brushing a few strands down, soothing them back into their rightful places, I wonder if I ever got up from the warm bed; if I'm still dreaming.

Then I remember she had said something.

"Good sleep last night?" Her melodic voice echoes in my head.

"Yes, actually, as I'm sure you can see." I respond, witty as usual.

To my dismay she lowers her hands and gives my head a satisfied nod, and I know she has conquered the beast.

"And you?" I ask, hoping she'll give me a real answer; that she'll tell me about what's troubling her so I can make it go away. I know she won't though. I figure it's worth a try. Although I know my hair's probably no longer a problem, my hand goes back up into my hair self-consciously.

I see a shadow pass over her face. I panic slightly. Have I done something wrong? Caused her to remember something she'd rather have forgotten about? I silently curse myself for bringing any discomfort to her.

She takes a small step back from me, which is when I realize how close we had been. She had stepped in to do my hair and had not moved away. I feel empty as her presence is torn from me. I almost reach out to pull her back in, but the look on her face shows that my first attempts of comforting her have had the opposite of the intention, and I don't want to do anything to make things worse.

"Umm…yeah, normal, I guess. I've got to, um—see you at—" Katniss stammers, a completely different person than the one who I had met a few moments ago.

Feeling at a loss of actions, I am forced to watch her leave.

Having nothing else to do, I head back to my room and wait for breakfast. Locking the door behind me, I head back to the mirror. What had I done to cause the shift in the conversation? It had been going great. Then something occurs to me. I had just had my first conversation with Katniss! Granted, I had ruined it, but I was still happy with the giant leap in our relationship.

I look up at my smiling face in the mirror and realize all my hair is laying down, tame and smooth. I think about her fingers in my hair and close my eyes.

This might not be so bad.

_So there you are _

_If you liked this, please go check out "The Hunger Games: About A Girl" to see the same moments through Katniss's P.O.V._

_And please review to tell me what you think! About this chapter and about how I plan to go about writing these two stories. Do you think it will work? Or is it a bit confusing? _

_Thanks for reading!_

_-Lady SM_


	2. Disclaimer

Whoops!

Lady SM forgot to disclaim…her bad!

All characters and most of the plot belong to the lovely Suzanne Collins.

Some of the ideas have been inspired by some other fanfics. I won't copy them word for word at all, just giving credit where credit's due, you know? There are some awesome Hunger Games stories out there!

17 days till the movie? Yipeee!

-Lady SM


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